Unbroken
by UntestedWaters
Summary: Collection of Jean and Marco drabbles. Will end at around 50 chapters and will be updated every three days. Going with an M warning right away to be safe.
1. Chapter 1 - Clothes Swap

Hey everyone! So this is a collection of Jean X Marco drabbles. This will be following along the same set of prompts (in the same order) as as two other drabble collections ( _Unbowed_ \- Jet/Zuko; ATLA & _Unbent -_ Black Star/Death the Kid; Soul Eater) so check those two out if you're interested. My goal is to update this every three days, but I make no promises. A full explanation of what I plan on doing with these collections can be found at the bottom of my profile.

As always, other info on what I'm currently working on can be found in my profile as well!

The title of the collection is taken from _Game of Thrones_. "Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken" are the house words of House Martell.

I went with an M rating overall because nearly everything I publish is like that, but I'll be putting chapter-specific ratings and warnings just to make sure people know. Also, none of these (unless explicitly stated) are intended to be set in relation to each other, but if you see a connection or like to think of them that way, then please do. Just know that I don't promise to keep them all together in a way that makes sense, because for me, they're typically not going to be connected.

Feel free to comment with new prompt ideas or critiques of any kind. :)

Chapter Rating: Tentative M  
Chapter Warning: Just implied stuff. No depictions of anything, but like, I dunno, being cautious I guess. Also, some f-bombs are in there.  
World: Canonical, set during training  
Word Count: 1194

And without further ado...

 **One: Clothes Swap**

* * *

 _"Wake up, maggots!"_

Instructor Shadis's voice had Jean bolting upright in bed. Or, well, the floor of the shed that was several dozen yards behind their actual housing. It took him a moment to get his bearings, remembering where he was (and why, eesh) and scrambling as he heard the instructor's voice again, faded only due to distance.

Jean groaned, wiping a hand over his face. How was it morning already? It was still dark in the shed, not much light coming in through the windows. Ah, so it wasn't _really_ morning. Not for normal, functioning people anyway.

Jean heard Shadis say something about 'two minutes to…' do something he couldn't hear, apparently. With a muttered curse, he began fumbling around for his clothes.

Beside him, Marco was still sound asleep. Jesus, that boy slept like he was dead. Jean grabbed his shoulder, rustling him roughly. "Marco, get up. C'mon Marco, Shadis is gonna find us and rip us a new one," he said, keeping his voice hushed out of misplaced paranoia of being caught.

Marco mumbled something in his sleep, turning to nuzzle into Jean's hand. Jean sighed loudly, rolling his eyes. Christ, this boy would be the death of him some day. "Alright, fine. Stay here and sleep all day, but when Shadis asks, I'm selling you out," he grumbled. But of course Jean couldn't actually do that.

He shook Marco a little harder and spoke up this time. "Marco, get _up._ Let's _go_ , buddy."

Finally, Marco's eyes blinked open blearily and he looked up at Jean in a daze. "...Jean?" he said, voice thick with sleep and sounding so very small.

Ugh. It's like he was _trying_ to kill Jean.

"Yeah. Hey. Good morning, Sunshine. Get your freckled butt up and get dressed or we're gonna have our asses handed to us on platters," Jean said, getting to his feet to pull on his underwear and his pants.

Marco simply smiled up at him, taking his time as he followed suit. "Marco, have you seen my shirt?" Jean asked at one point, while he was fumbling with the straps of his uniform in the semi-darkness.

Marco looked around, rubbing his eyes to try to focus them. He grabbed the shirt in front of him and tossed it to Jean, who took it with an incoherent grunt of thanks.

Jean quickly buttoned it over his chest, stuffing the end of his shirt into his pants as he pulled straps over his shoulders, looking over his shoulder to check on Marco, who was _taking his sweet time_ and fumbling in the dark.

Jean sighed, shoving his boots on and marching over to Marco. He began furiously straightening his collar and buttoning his shirt for him, beginning to hear the scramble of the other trainees outside.

"Seriously Marco, wake yourself up," Jean muttered. Marco simply laughed sleepily at him and then yawned.

Jean clenched his teeth and forced himself not to roll his eyes as he focused on his rushed hands doing up Marco's shirt.

He kicked Marco's boots toward him and the freckled boy began putting them on leisurely _, fucking leisurely like they had time._

Jean busied himself with the straps of Marco's uniform, working around how Marco was hunched to put on his boots. When he'd finished with the straps, Jean ran his hands through Marco's hair, attempting to flatten the mess of cowlicks.

"Alright, c'mon, we're about out of time," Jean said, steering Marco toward the door by his shoulders. He handed the boy his jacket and the two of them were shrugging into the tan coats as they stepped outside to the dim light of dawn.

As they fell in line, Jean fidgeted uncomfortably. His clothing felt too loose in an annoying way. Shadis droned on and on until Jean stopped even hearing him, still groggy and half asleep.

Marco stood behind him, eyes only half open and Jean would've sworn that he saw him squirming in discomfort too.

Apparently he wasn't the only one because he felt Reiner jab him in the ribs and then he whispered, "What's wrong with you two?"

Jean mumbled something noncommittal in response, shrugging. He honestly didn't know. They were just tired, he supposed.

Shadis was pacing in front of them until he stopped in front of Marco, who Jean could've been convinced was actually _asleep_ right there.

"Bodt!" the instructor's voice was head-splittingly loud right next to Jean and he could only imagine how Marco felt as he stuttered out a meek "yessir." "You wanna tell me why you're twitching like a goddamn baby snake trying to crawl out of a wet sock?!"

Marco's eyes snapped wide as words were shouted in his face. Jean had no idea what sort of analogy that was supposed to be but Marco seemed to take it with good grace. "Uh, I'm not sure sir."

"Not sure eh?!" Instructor Shadis shouted. Marco simply shrugged and Jean's eyebrows pulled together, wondering just what exactly the instructor was getting at. Then again, he'd basically zoned out for the past few minutes and had missed any sort of explanation as to why they were up so _goddamn early_ too.

"I could tell you, sir."

And it was Eren _fucking_ Jaeger who piped up. Jean turned slightly to look at him, standing at attention on the other side of Marco. Armin was next to him and was giving him a look that said _don't do it Eren._

"Oh? Please, enlighten me, Jaeger," Shadis said.

"Well, sir, he's got Jean's clothes on."

…

Jean was suspended in a moment. A moment when he stared at Eren, thoroughly confused by what he meant. And then that moment snapped and he was looking down at himself, seeing a crisp white shirt in place of his usual green and the name "Bodt" on the pocket of his jacket.

Jean could feel the embarrassment start pricking at him as he dared to peek at Marco who was also looking down at himself, fingers tracing over where it said "Kirstein" and a hot blush racing to his face.

Shadis said nothing about this, simply watched the two of them squirm under his stare before he turned and started pacing away, presumably to begin shouting at the lot of them again. Something in his stare told Jean he knew _exactly_ what was going on here. Shit.

Then, that obnoxious voice was cutting through the stunned silence again and by God he was _fucking singing._

"Jean and Marco sitting in a tr-"

"I swear to god I'll kill you Jaeger!" Jean was shouting before he could even finish.

And he would've, if not for Reiner taking hold of his arms from behind and Marco turning to push against his chest, the two of them effectively keeping him away from Eren.

Despite this, Reiner was chuckling in his ear, Connie and Sasha were giggling behind their hands, even Bert and Armin were trying not to grin. Eren's smug fucking face grinned at him over Marco's shoulder.

And in the middle of it all was Marco's sheepish little smile as he flattened Jean's lapels.

 _Damn it, Bodt. Have you no shame?_


	2. Chapter 2 - Dark

I'm a little sad that this is the one that is getting posted on Valentine's Day because it's depressing as hell but also hopefully kinda beautiful in a sense? (But not really, it's mainly just sad.)

Chapter Rating: T  
Chapter Warning: Major grief, some adult themes in the way of death and whatnot, some language  
World: Canon; it'll be fairly obvious as to what time once you start reading.  
Word Count: 883

* * *

People always said the world got dark when you lost someone you cared about. That wasn't true. The world didn't get dark. You just realized how dark it already was.

Jean learned this with sudden and alarming clarity. It wasn't when he was staring down at Marco's body, half-eaten and mangled against the side of a building, slumped in the street among all the horror and destruction. Lying dead in the streets where Jean grew up. It wasn't when they piled body after body onto the pyre, the flames burning the entire night. It wasn't when Jean broke down in front of his friends and let out tears for Marco.

It was when he stared up at the bunk above him at night and knew it was empty now.

The thought left an aching hole in his chest. No, not a hole - something that festered and crawled, living inside of him and gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. It was something that breathed and consumed him like he was oxygen for a flame. It was a creature that sucked on the blood in Jean's veins. It made him feel tired, beaten.

With sudden and alarming clarity, Jean Kirstein realized that this world was dark.

For three nights, he lay in his bed without getting any sleep. Three nights passed while he stared up at where Marco should be. At the end of those three nights, he was expected to make a choice to serve the human population. He wondered if he'd stick with the decision he'd made, the one he'd made for Marco.

But then again, was it really for Marco? If there was one thing Jean knew it was that Marco wouldn't want Jean gallivanting around beyond the walls, slaying titans and endangering himself in Marco's name. He'd want Jean to take the easy way out, live a cushy life with the Military Police, father some children or some stupid shit like that.

The thought made Jean sick to his stomach.

But he knew he wasn't really doing this for Marco. He was doing it for himself. He stood by the words he once said to Eren. If Jean went out there, if he ventured beyond the protection of these walls, he would die. Top ten, so what, who cares. It didn't mean a thing. There were monsters and horrors in this world that someone like Jean wasn't capable of dealing with.

Those monsters would kill him. He would become one of those horrors. His comrades would watch him be swallowed whole, or torn in half by huge teeth, or be trampled and bent into a broken, crumpled heap, just like Marco.

The sad thing was that it's exactly what Jean wanted.

It wasn't about glory or martyrdom or being reunited with his lost friend. It wasn't about any of that bullshit. It was about how this world was disgusting and pathetic and how it made Jean nauseous to live in it. It was about wanting to leave it all behind, because once Jean realized how dark it was, there was no escape from those thoughts. They clung to him like vicious shadows wanting to strip back his clothes so they could dig into his skin and rip away his flesh, peel it all back so they could crawl inside and make him a part of them.

Jean didn't want that to happen.

He didn't want to be consumed by the idea that despite how shitty it was, this world was the best that life had to offer. People in this world accepted their circumstances. Soldiers accepted their comrades deaths and moved on to fight another battle. To avenge them or some other bullshit. People who had never seen a titan, never seen the destruction, the fear, the panic, those people accepted the false safety of the walls and they lived their lives worrying about who their children would marry or whether or not they'd be able to pay their landlord next week.

When Jean saw those people he wanted to scream. He wanted to take someone they cared about and rip them in half and throw the pieces in the street. He wanted to see the despair on their face when they found them.

That's what this world had made of Jean. It had turned him into a vile, hateful, spiteful being, and Jean never wanted that.

All Jean wanted was to leave this world before it could turn him into one of those people who settled for what the earth offered him, a tragic, black existence.

Marco had often spoke of a place full of light and peace, a place beyond the walls, beyond this world, he would say. Jean never understood what he had meant but Marco had seemed so sure. He had this brightness to him, but his face especially glowed when he talked about this...light place. Jean found himself hoping that Marco found this place. Whatever it was, whatever he meant by it. All he knew was that if it existed, it certainly wasn't part of this world. Jean could only hope that Marco was right, that this place was real and that Marco had found it.

Because Marco was gone. And with sudden and alarming clarity, Jean knew the world would stay dark forever.


	3. Chapter 3 - Losing a Bet

This one is my favorite amongst the entire series (including _Unbowed_ and _Unbent_ ) so far. I really loved writing this one and I hope you guys like it too.

Chapter Rating: T  
Chapter Warning: No explicit content but I went with the T rating because I think I sprinkled in some swears.  
World: Canon  
Word Count: 1501

 **Three: Losing a Bet**

* * *

"Oh, just _do it_ Horseface!" Eren said _obnoxiously_ , the amusement clear in his voice.

Jean grit his teeth in response, trying to will the blush off of his face. Eren elbowed him in the ribs when he didn't make a move to get up.

"C'mon Jean, these are the rules. You lost so you gotta do it!"

Jean stifled his urge to groan in frustration. Why? Why did the universe hate him so much?

But Eren was right. These were the terms they'd agreed upon. Eren had spent the entirety of yesterday bragging about how tough he was and how he'd take down anyone hand-to-hand to prove it. Jean, of course, wanted to kick the snot out of the little brat (but to be honest he'd slacked off in his hand to hand training just as much as the next guy so he probably would've embarrassed himself). So instead he had bet Eren that he couldn't take Reiner and that had become the event of the night.

Virtually the whole squad had come out after dinner to the lowly lit makeshift arena outside. Shadis had turned in for the night so he didn't disturb them as Connie officiated the "match" as he'd dubbed it.

However, that wasn't even really the interesting part. Well, it was _half_ of it. The stakes were these: if Eren lost, he'd have to show up to training the next morning stark naked. But if he _won_ then Jean had to plant a big fat kiss smack on Marco's mouth.

When Jean had heard this, he almost backed out, the thought entirely too embarrassing. But his pride had gotten the better of him and besides, he had faith in Reiner. He was practically a beast, he could easily kick the snot out of a little shit like Jaeger.

But of course that hadn't happened. It was at least interesting to watch. The two of them made a couple of failed attempts at each other until finally, Eren ducked, caught Reiner off balance, and tossed the blond giant right on his ass. There had been cheers but mostly groans, which made Jean think that some other people had made some upsetting bets too.

Breakfast hadn't even finished the next morning before Eren was harping on Jean about his 'punishment'.

The way Reiner was grinning on the other side of him think that maybe the bullheaded shit had taken a dive…

Jean narrowed his eyes suspiciously as Reiner joined in on Eren's teasing. "Yeah, c'mon Kirstein, what's the big deal? Afraid of catching cooties from all those freckles?"

"Shut it, Reiner," Jean grumbled in response, not even bothering to look over at him.

Eren stood and moved behind Jean, rubbing at his shoulders in faux encouragement. "C'mon tiger. What's the worst that could happen? He's like a puppy. He's not gonna hit you or anything."

Jean was about to launch into a speech about how that was _not the point_ but then Eren was lifting the back of his stool, effectively dumping Jean out of it. If he hadn't caught his balance, he definitely would've ended up on the floor. He turned on Eren with a snarl on his lips, but Reiner caught him easily by the shoulders and spun him around, giving him a gentle shove in Marco's direction.

"Go on, lover boy," Reiner chuckled. He and Eren stood shoulder to shoulder, arms crossed with shit-eating grins on their faces. Jean scowled at them once more before clenching his fists and turning away.

He trudged over to where Marco was sitting, having a quiet conversation with Armin after having just finished breakfast. _Oh God what am I doing? There are so many people in here…_ Jean thought to himself, unable to stop the feeling of heat rushing to his face.

Armin looked up at him first, flashing him a friendly smile which Jean couldn't find it in himself to return as he approached Marco's back.

Marco obviously caught Armin's look and was already turning to look over his shoulder as Jean stuttered out a pitiful, "Hey, M-Marco…"

Once he caught sight of Jean, his brilliant white smile fell from his perfectly freckled face and it was immediately replaced with a look of concern. "Jean, is something the matter?" he asked, eyebrows pulling together in worry. _Great_ , Jean thought, _I must look terrible_. "Are you feeling sick? You don't look so good." _Yep. There it is_.

When Jean didn't answer him, Marco started to stand, which in the end, is what made it really awkward in a number of ways when Jean leaned down to kiss him.

The idea was that if he just leaned in and kissed him, he'd have a head start in running away because Marco would have to get up to chase after him. But Jean had hesitated too long and as Marco stood and he leaned in, it wasn't awkward in the sense that their kiss became a bit harder than intended, or his lips landed in the wrong place. No, they cracked their faces together really fucking hard, that's what.

Jean immediately straightened, holding his nose as his eyes watered and he grunted in pain. Marco rushed to his feet even faster, pressing a hand to his forehead as he scrunched his nose in pain and fussed over Jean like a mother hen. "Oh, Jean, are you okay?" he asked, making way too much out of it for Jean's tastes.

He could already sense people turning to look at them, which was exactly the _opposite_ of what he wanted, and he could hear Jaeger and Braun behind him, snickering and probably falling all over each other in their fitful attempts to hold in their laughter.

With a hiss, Jean pulled his hand away, actually surprised to see it free of blood. What did Marco have in his head, anyway, _rocks_? Jesus. "I'm fine," he grumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck as he looked down and away from Marco.

Marco was having none of his lame answer and stepped into Jean's personal bubble, taking his face in both hands to tilt his head back. "Let me see," he demanded, but honestly did Jean even have a choice? He was already being manhandled.

His face was still fiercely red and he was surprised he didn't combust from the embarrassment at this point. "Jean, you're burning up. Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Marco asked, touching different parts of Jean's face to see if it was all as hot as his cheeks. Of course it was.

Jean grabbed Marco's wrists and pulled them away from his face, looking sternly at him. "I'm not sick," he said adamantly.

"Oh…okay," Marco said, clearly now at a loss for words. "You, uh, you had something to tell me?" he offered lamely, obviously trying to fill the silence.

Jean tried to keep the grimace off his face but he wasn't sure if he succeeded. _Just do it, Jean._ He pinched his eyes shut for a quick moment and steeled himself before reaching up with one hand to grip the back of Marco's neck. Then, he tiptoed and placed his lips against Marco's.

It wasn't a magic moment. In fact, it was horrendously awkward. Marco, being Marco, clearly had no clue what was going on and had not even the remotest idea of how he was supposed to react so he just stood, unmoving, one hand still trapped in Jean's between their bodies and the other hanging limply at his side.

Jean, for his part, was making probably the ugliest face he had ever made; scrunched up and pinched shut, he counted to five in his head as quickly as he could. _One Wall Maria… Two Wall Maria… Three Wall Maria…_

It was the longest five seconds of his life. The worst part was the fact that he could feel literally every single person in the room staring at them, and he could hear Eren and Reiner cackling like the stupid little assholes they were.

 _Four Wall Maria… Five Wall Maria!_

Jean pulled away as quickly as he could, putting a solid foot of space between him and Marco. When he looked at his freckled friend, his expression was completely different. Simply put, the boy was confused. His eyes were wide with innocence and his head slightly tilted in question as he looked at Jean, as if waiting for an answer.

Jean gave him no such thing as he cleared his throat and, face flaming, turned and walked briskly out of the mess hall. When he pushed past Eren and Reiner, they were literally clinging to each other, trying to stay standing as they laughed. They whistled and catcalled after him and the rest of the squad was trapped in a daze of confusion. At the center of that confusion was poor Marco who was left standing in the middle of the room, fingertips touching his lips lightly as a small, pleased smile graced the corners of his lips.


	4. Chapter 4 - Bath Time

Oh my god I'm so behind on my updates of these. I swear though I WILL catch up. And then I'll get back into the cycle. Don't worry. I can do this I swear.

This one actually was a struggle for me. I knew where I wanted to go with it but it took me many an edit before it got where it needed to be.

So without further ado...

Chapter Rating: T  
Chapter Warning: Nudity, some implied past stuff  
World: An AU where Marco survived the battle of Trost, but was seriously injured (not in the typical "lost an arm and an eye" way though)  
Word Count: 1339

 **Four: Bath Time**

* * *

There was something about looking at Jean's face that made Marco feel profoundly sad.

He often found himself staring when Jean wasn't paying attention and what he found there tugged harshly at his heartstrings. Jean looked tired and, more than that, he looked old. There were lines on his face Marco had never noticed before the battle of Trost and those lines made him look weathered and frail. At the same time, he seemed hardened and closed off.

Marco had never seen someone look so strong and vulnerable.

"Marco."

Jean's voice was gruff and low, trying to get Marco's attention but careful not to startle him. Marco had noticed the gentility of Jean's voice when he spoke to him lately. Jean was a callous type of guy, which was something his voice usually reflected. It was sharp and quick, never unsteady and always willing to raise in volume and force to make a point. But that's not how it sounded when he spoke to Marco. It used to be. But it was different now. It was cautious, quiet and so very full of anguish.

Marco forced himself to refocus his eyes. He'd been staring at Jean but he definitely wasn't paying attention to him.

"Stop staring," Jean said, though it lacked any true bite. "It's time to wash up."

Marco's eyebrows tilted into that soft, sweet, sad expression and offered Jean a gentle smile, full of inauthentic warmth.

Marco tried for a moment to catch Jean's eye, but it soon became clear that Jean was pointedly avoiding looking at his face as he leaned over Marco and started fiddling with the intricacies of the wheelchair he was seated in. Marco stifled the urge to let his frown overtake his face and instead offered another forced smile.

"Okay, Jean."

The way to the bath was silent. Marco used to find comfort in the silence between them. Late at night when their whispered conversations would finally reach an end. Or early in the morning when Marco would help Jean straighten his uniform straps because he could never seem to get them on right. Or over dinner as they listened to the constant babble spouted from Connie and Sasha. It was a warm silence.

This silence was not that silence. It was thick and palpable and it tasted sour in Marco's mouth. He could practically feel the tension of Jean's stiff body as he clutched at the handles of the wheelchair. How Marco wished to smooth away that tension, run his hands over Jean's neck and shoulders until they became limp under his careful fingers and a delicately sweet sigh would pass between Jean's lips. His face would be free of all those he'd added to it.

But Marco couldn't do that. He frowned as he looked down at his hands. One lay limp at the end of a makeshift sling and both were swathed in bandages, completely useless. The burns were getting better but he still had no feeling in them. The nurse had said that they may not ever work properly again.

Once he started staring at his injuries, he couldn't stop. His eyes traveled further down, to his right leg, cut off at his knee. They said it was a miracle her even lived through the amputation. Once it was healed enough, they'd promised to fit him for a prosthetic so he could walk. That would still take weeks of rehabilitation.

Marco felt his heart sink into his stomach. He was usually very good at keeping a positive attitude and staying optimistic, because one of them had to and he couldn't put that burden on Jean. But sometimes, the idea that he'd never walk on his own two feet again, or the idea that his fingertips wouldn't be able to feel the subtle twitch of Jean's skin under them, was almost too much to bear.

But he'd bear it. He knew that if he went on a downward spiral, it would be cripplingly stressful for Jean. Jean would always try to do what's best for Marco and right now, he was the worrywart to counteract Marco's cheerful recklessness about his injuries. This was easier for Jean because he could be open about his grief, guilt and anger. If their roles were reversed by Marco falling into his depressing thoughts of self-pity, it would be painful for Jean to try to be the one to make Marco happy when he couldn't even seem to make himself happy. It just wouldn't be fair to him.

Jean had already done more than enough. When Marco woke up, Jean was there, dark bags under his eyes saying that he hadn't slept. When the nurses had said Marco would need care for several weeks, Jean hadn't hesitated when he'd offered. When the officer had come to honorably discharge soldiers too injured to continue fighting in the future, Jean had stood toe-to-toe with his superiors, arguing on Marco's behalf. He hadn't won that screaming fit but at least he'd tried.

There wasn't anything Jean wouldn't do for Marco. That was entirely clear now.

"Marco," Jean's voice finally broke Marco out of his reverie. "C'mon. Quit daydreaming. I need you to lean forward."

Marco blinked slowly, looking to see Jean's face as he frowned at the stubborn buttons of Marco's shirt. "Sorry," Marco mumbled as he obliged Jean's request.

Jean carefully slid Marco's jacket and shirt off his good arm first and then removed the sling, face steeling when Marco winced slightly. When he moved his hands to Marco's belt, he made a point to really look at what he was doing so he didn't have to meet Marco's eye.

Marco smiled fondly at Jean and raised the bandaged hand attached to his unbroken arm and placed it atop Jean's head, ruffling his hair. How Marco wished he could feel it between his fingers. "Don't get shy on me now. Not the first time you've done it," he said, obvious amusement in his voice.

"Be careful with your hand," Jean scolded, ignoring Marco's suggestive comment, though the blush crawling across his cheeks told Marco that he knew exactly what he had meant. He looked up to see Marco's soft smile and immediately looked away again, rolling his eyes. Then he was carefully moving Marco's arm by a loose hold around his wrist. "Okay, you gotta stand now."

Marco nodded as he wrapped his right arm tighter around Jean's neck, feeling Jean's own arm slide around his waist. "One," Jean said, his voice regaining its earlier focus. "Two, three." And then Marco was standing on his left leg, body pressed closely up against Jean's as he swayed with the momentum. Jean's strong hands steadied him easily. "I gotcha," he breathed, breath hot and tingling in Marco's ear. "Now hang tight. I know this is hard but we can do this." Jean's babbling was clearly due to nerves, but Marco found it comforting as Jean bent slightly, reaching to slide the remainder of Marco's clothing down and off.

"Good," Jean said, still bracing most of Marco's weight. "Alright, put your arm back around my neck. ...Good...and...up we go." He lifted Marco's naked form into his arms, one hand under his knee and the other arm wrapped around his shoulders. In the next moment, Marco was resting in the tub of hot water, smiling up at Jean. Jean's returning smile seemed a little less forced than usual.

"We can do this," Marco said.

Jean rolled his eyes but Marco thought he saw the corners of Jean's mouth twitching.

The bath was refreshing until Jean had to take away Marco's hand wraps and make him clean the still-raw wounds in the hot water. It was excruciating.

Marco wished he could ignore the way Jean's entire body stiffened and guilt filled his eyes as Marco shouted at the initial pain.

After that, he clenched his teeth harder to quell the urge to scream at the stinging burn, not wanting Jean to worry anymore.

There wasn't anything Marco wouldn't do for Jean.


	5. Chapter 5 - A Day at the Beach

Hey y'all. So I'm still working on catching up with these. I just have a whole bunch going on right now, but I promise I'll eventually catch up. (On my schedule, I'm supposed to be on drabble #12 at this point so it's not impossible to catch up!) I spent the entirety of my spring break working on my Jean cosplay so I didn't have much free time and now I'm back at school which is a little hectic right now, but fret not! Even if I'm late, I will eventually do all of these, I swear.

Anyway, in regards to this one, I don't think I did the idea in my head justice but I really wanted to post something so this is where this one's at. Please review and let me know how you liked it!

Chapter Rating: T is good, I think.  
Chapter Warning: Uh, some mature themes, not in the sexual content sense (I make no promises in that regard, ever) but in the traumatic sense. Trigger warning I guess is what they call it? Well, that was meant to be there more than it is. It's actually kinda light in that sense too. Oh, and whoever the "third person" is, they swear a lot. So be warned.  
World: Modern AU because like, they haven't seen the beach in the canon sooooo. Also, important to know that Jean is aquaphobic in this one.  
Disclaimer: I wanted to include that little piece of information (the aquaphobia thing) as a shoutout to the literal greatest Jean/Marco fanfiction, which can be found here on (updated version on ao3) titled _Droplets_ and written by Prof. Lemonade. It is amazing and beautiful and you should all go read it. It's my fave forever and ever.  
Word Count: 1655

 **Five: A Day at the Beach**

* * *

"Jean, come _on_! _Pleeeeeeease_?" Marco was tugging at Jean's wrist, trying to get him to stand, but Jean was adamant in remaining where he sat, seated on his laid-out towel.

"No, Marco. I told you, I'm not going in the ocean," Jean said, voice gruff with his grouchiness.

"Just for a little while! You look like you're melting out here in the sun!"

"I happen to like the sun," Jean replied, tearing his hand forcefully away from Marco's.

Marco pouted but conceded, running off at the call of his name from Reiner.

Jean grit his teeth against the annoyance he felt at himself. So _stupid_. The boy of his dreams was basking in the summer sun, fucking _glowing_ , pulling his hands and flashing a blinding smile just for _him_ and what did he do? He buried all those things under a blanket he liked to call "anxiety" and pushed the golden, freckled god away. It was that anxiety that prevented him from getting up and getting into the water with Marco.

It was tragic, really. Because when Jean thought about water, there was nothing but horror and terror associated with it. He imagined it sticking to his skin and dragging him down, filling his nose and flooding his lungs as he gasped for air. The thought alone was enough to send chills down his spine.

But watching _Marco_... That was something else entirely. The way he pranced, fucking _pranced_ , through the shallows, giggling, fucking _giggling_ , as he shielded his face from water that Reiner was splashing at him, the way the water sparkled, fucking _sparkled_ , on his golden, freckled skin. Damn. The water didn't make Marco look good, Marco made the water look good.

It was shitty how badly it made Jean want to get up, rip off his shirt and gallop into the salty sea to be able to see Marco up close in all of his glory. It was actually kind of stupid, how ridiculously much Jean wanted to sprint sloppily down the sloping sand and fling himself onto Marco, a splay of flying limbs clambering over those strong, broad shoulders. It was embarrassing, the strong desire Jean had to litter Marco's freckled neck with butterfly kisses. or maybe tackle him to the ground and do something much less appropriate for their public location.

So it was with a hearty sigh that Jean tugged his knees into his chest and rested his chin atop them, continuing to watch his friends as they enjoyed themselves.

He wasn't alone for long though. To his excitement and terror, Marco came trotting back up the beach only a few minutes later, shaking his hair out like a wet dog. Jean tried carefully to look like his dodging of the droplets was only due to annoyance and not what it really was.

Marco plopped down besides him without any preamble, still dripping. Jean inched away as a scowl retook his face. "Watch it!" he said, with a bit too much force.

Marco simply smiled that stupid, dazzling smile of his and looked at Jean, focusing that intense stare on him. They sat like that, looking at each other, for what seemed to Jean as _eternity_. Until, finally, Marco said, "Jean, are you afraid of the water?"

Jean's world came to a sudden, screeching halt at those words. He had spent _years_ , almost two full _decades_ , keeping that hidden from anyone but Marco… Marco knew at hardly a glance. It was something that Jean normally loved about the other boy. He just seemed to _know_ things. But now, what had once seemed so amazing, had pierced through Jean's fake exterior and shattered everything he'd struggled to maintain.

The panic must have been obvious on Jean's face because Marco's smile quickly fled and was replaced by that kicked puppy look he got when he was about to apologize. "It's okay if you are!" he said quickly. "A-And you can tell me I'm wrong! I-I just thought that maybe… What I mean is… Well, I-I'm not going to judge you or anything like that. I just thought maybe you'd like to...to...well, to talk to someone about it. If...if you like." It was incredible, really. How quickly Marco had gone from relaxed and stunning to a puddle of stuttering, nervous apologies and guilty looks.

If it had been anyone else, Jean probably would've barked at them, growled out some stupid refutal of their comment and turned harshly away, even going so far as to stalk off toward the pier.

But looking at Marco, seeing the genuineness of his kind smile and his bashful blush, Jean simply couldn't get mad. In the end, he simply tucked his mouth behind his arms where they sat crossed on his knees and mumbled something entirely unintelligible in response.

In that moment, Marco was back to his state of intuitively being able to read Jean and he didn't press Jean to repeat himself. Instead, he stole sidelong glances and bumped Jean's shoulder with his own.

Not long after, Marco picked up an idle chatter, talking about anything and everything about himself, even if they were simple things, things Jean already knew.

Eventually, when the sun was beginning to set, and Reiner and Bertholdt and Krista and Ymir had packed up their things and headed off to some restaurant on the docks, Jean found himself still seated beside Marco, staring at the sun as it sunk further behind the ocean.

The silence was comfortable between them, the only sound being the waves and the few people left on the beach.

Finally, Marco said, "Hey Jean," in a low, quiet voice that Jean wished to hear for the rest of his life.

He didn't let that on of course, as he turned to look at Marco and grunted out, "Hm?" in way of response.

Marco wasn't looking at him, though; he was staring at the ocean, smiling like the huge dork he was. "Do me a favor, would you?" Jean immediately felt skeptical, and even more so as Marco stood and held his hand out to Jean. "Please?" he said, before Jean could even say no. "I promise I won't let anything happen to you."

Jean spent a long, painful minute just worrying his bottom lip between his teeth so harshly he thought he might draw blood. But before he knew it, he was reaching out to take Marco's hand and letting the taller boy haul him to his feet.

Marco didn't let go of his hand as they walked toward the ocean, and that in itself was something distracting enough to keep Jean's initial panic at bay. His heart felt like it was going to burst any second, something that was not helped when the sand began to grow wet under his bare feet.

Just before they reached the water, Jean came to a stop. "Marco, wait, I… I don't think I can do this!" he blurted, trying to keep his voice down so that he wouldn't draw any attention to himself. His pride wouldn't allow him to make a fool of himself in front of strangers, all freckled angels be damned.

Marco simply turned to look at him and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Yes, you can. Look, we'll take it really slow. Just your feet, okay?" he said, with another of those blinding smiles.

Jean chewed on his lip some more before taking a deep breath and then nodding.

It was with agonizing slowness that Marco led him into the shallows, and his grip on Marco's hand was probably excruciating in its tightness, though Marco didn't seem to mind. Finally, the cold water touched Jean's feet and he jumped, startled, clenching his teeth. He tried to will away negative thoughts, but all he could think of was the thick, suffocating stickiness that he imagined around his ankles. He pictured it clinging to him and not letting go, dragging him further in until there was no return.

Jean didn't Marco was trying to speak to him until he felt his warm hand against his cheek. "Jean?" Marco said, probably repeating himself. His face was calm and sure, a smile gracing his lips in a way that was so comforting that Jean could begin to stable his breath, which he hadn't realized had gone slightly erratic until now. He focused on looking at Marco's face instead of down at his feet.

"You're doing really well," Marco said softly. The praise made heat rush to Jean's cheeks and he suddenly felt very self-conscious about their closeness. He opened his mouth to stutter a reply but the tide came in with a larger wave than normal and he was hissing as the water splashed higher on his legs, drawing his attention entirely back to the ocean and the horror it brought with it.

Firming his touch on Jean's face, Marco spoke quickly. "I think that's enough for today," was all he said, but Jean could've kissed him for it.

Jean nodded thankful and together they moved away from the water. They walked up and down the beach a bit until finally, the sun had really gone. Jean tried not to think too much about how Marco never once let go of his hand. It was odd, wasn't it? Jean liked to think his crush on Marco wasn't so obvious and they were good friends, considering the short length of time they'd known each other, but he never thought Marco would do something like hold his hand on the beach.

It was as Marco was packing up their things that Jean found himself staring again, until Marco straightened and tilted his head in confusion at him. "Jean? Is everything alright?" he asked. And that pure fucking concern, combined with the way the starlight shone around Marco, just barely lighting his handsome features…

Well, it was enough to send Jean's heart racing and in the end, he had to kiss him after all.


	6. Chapter 6 - Condemn

Another one for the books! This one is terribly short and not at all how I wanted it to be, but I wanted to post it anyway so here it is and I'm sorry if it disappoints.

Chapter Rating: K+  
Chapter Warning: None  
World: Canon  
Word Count: 305

 **Six: Condemn**

* * *

It wasn't really fair. Marco knew that. It wasn't fair for Jean to have to go about his life, witnessing horrors and fighting to keep living.

Meanwhile, Marco stayed by his side, always talking to him, distracting him, pulling him away from his friends, Eren and Armin, Connie and Sasha, Mikasa.

He could see it made Jean crazy, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

It wasn't fair that Marco was condemned to walk the Earth by Jean's side after his death. It wasn't fair that Jean was condemned to live with it.

It was late at night, when Jean would try to sleep, but couldn't because he didn't want to leave Marco alone. It was early in the morning when Jean was groggy enough to think Marco was real, flesh and blood, before his face fell when he remembered the truth. It was hearing Marco laugh at something Connie said, making Jean's face fall because only he could hear. It was knowing Marco wouldn't get older, wouldn't have a family, wouldn't have anything that living people strived for. It was not knowing whether he was actually seeing Marco or if he was simply going insane.

Marco could see all of this in Jean but he didn't know how to make it better. He tried. He really did; he tried by laughing and being chattery when Jean wasn't up for much of anything. He tried to be optimistic, and he looked out for Jean in the field of battle.

But honestly, Marco began to think that he was only making things worse. There was nothing he could do to make it better, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

If he could, he would just leave Jean alone. That would be better for him. But he couldn't.

They were condemned to exist together.


End file.
